


count me away before you sleep

by hopefulundertone



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-25
Updated: 2015-05-25
Packaged: 2018-04-01 05:01:31
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4006786
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hopefulundertone/pseuds/hopefulundertone
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pete's Brilliant and Very Advisable Plan (capitals absolutely necessary) went like this: call the hotel, and instead of asking for twin beds in their room, order a single king-sized bed, forcing Patrick to have to sleep with him. <br/>It's going to work, just wait and see.</p>
            </blockquote>





	count me away before you sleep

**Author's Note:**

> title from trade mistakes by panic! at the disco, cred to hh! 
> 
> This is mostly based off the time I saw photos of Pete and Patrick sharing a room and a bed and took it and ran screaming off a cliff. Forgive me.

"Oh, for fuck's sake, not again!" Pete bit his lip and concentrated on hefting his duffle bag over his shoulder, instead of the exasperated sound Patrick made when he entered the hotel room they're sharing. They've made it, Pete supposes, but not big enough to actually be able to afford separate hotel rooms, and none of them really mind that much; it's an upgrade from the four of them having to share one motel room, and they work out the sleeping arrangements pretty quickly, because Patrick tended to be the only one Pete could stand sleeping in the same room as (mostly because Joe was not at all subtle about being stoned as hell most of the time, and Andy preferred to ignore him instead of getting angry like Patrick if he was being an asshole, and he couldn't stand that, so. Also, another reason that really isn't that big of a factor may be that he was ass-over-teakettle for Patrick. Minor details though, semantics really.)   
Still, Pete being Pete, had seen an opportunity to make the already-awesome arrangement even better. This involved bribing their manager to let him call the hotels and arrange the bookings, under solemn oath that he wouldn't fuck stuff up too much, to which Pete reluctantly swore. This was too good of an idea to pass up just because he wanted to screw around with his bandmates.   
Pete's Brilliant and Very Advisable Plan (capitals absolutely necessary) went like this: call the hotel, and instead of asking for twin beds in their room, order a single queen-sized bed, forcing Patrick to have to sleep with him. Well, not actually sleep with him (not that he'd mind but Patrick definitely would), but at least in the same bed, which was as good as it was going to get, Pete mused. It'd worked pretty well in the past three venues they'd played at on their tour, and Patrick had only grumbled minimally when he woke up to find Pete wrapped around him like a four-limbed octopus, so he definitely counted it among his successes.   
"What's up?" Trying his best to fake innocence (plausible deniability, Wentz!), Pete trudged into the room, and stared at the singular bed that took up most of the space in the room, and the grumpy Patrick that sat on the edge, hair sticking out every which way under his hat, and for the billionth time, stopped himself from jumping onto the guy and kissing the fuck out of him.   
(Get a hold of yourself, Wentz.)  
"Oh."  
"Yeah, oh. Sharing a bed with you again, huh." Patrick mock-glared at him. "I seriously need to talk to, like, whoever's doing the bookings. This is getting ridiculous, and kinda stupid." His face was drawn with exhaustion and irritation, Pete noticed, and nodded in lieu of words, and tried to hide his extremely conflicted teenage-girl feelings by launching himself onto the bed.  
"Dude! You're fucking gross, get off! At least shower first or something."   
"Yes, mom."

-

After they'd gone out for food with the others, showered and Patrick had deemed him clean enough to actually lie on the bed, it was past midnight and Pete was pushing exhausted beyond belief, only too happy to slide under the covers and curl up, leaving a respectable distance between Patrick's back and his, which, to be fair, wasn't something he did often, but hey, Pete wasn't at all sure his plan was a good one anymore, so. So Patrick could do what he wanted, and in the next venue, he'd get them twin beds. It wasn't a big deal.   
"Oh, for god's sake. C'mere."   
Pete took a second to process the words, another second to factor them into his thought process, and promptly launched himself at Patrick, who took it all in good grace and wrapped his arms around Pete, one hand resting on his back and the other coming to feather through his hair slowly. "You're entirely too snuggly, has anyone ever told you that?"   
"Shut up, you love me." Pete had meant it in a joking tone, but at that moment, Patrick's thumb absentmindedly brushed over his cheek, and it came out sounding less like a jest and more like... Well. He sneaked a look at Patrick, who was giving him an unreadable look, as if considering what he'd said, and then was leaning over to press his lips to Pete's, which, wow, was definitely better than what he'd always thought; Patrick's lips were soft as fuck. "You're...not wrong." Patrick murmured, brushing his thumb over Pete's cheek again, which was nice, but ultimately not quite what he had in mind, and Pete leaned forward to rectify that, closing the distance between them and kissing Patrick slowly, cupping his jaw carefully and licking open his mouth. Pete found he quite liked the sounds it drew out from Patrick, who gave as good as he got, and he'd almost forgotten he was tired beyond the point of death when his singer pushed him back gently and mumbled, "Tomorrow, more tomorrow. Sleep now." An odd feeling tingled in Pete's stomach, and he grinned, curling closer to Patrick. "Yeah. Yeah, okay."   
The last, fleeting thought he had before he slipped into unconsciousness was that whoever the fuck said Pete Wentz's plans weren't the most brilliant and the greatest ever could go and fuck themselves, because he was the best.

**Author's Note:**

> Patrick knows. In a separate version, I was going to write him teasing Pete about it, but I prefer this one I guess.


End file.
